Never Okay
by Greg'sgirl5
Summary: "Someone might seem happy around you, but alone, that's a different story." He's never okay, even when the world thinks he is. Post 'Fannysmackin'.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I own nothing but my imagination :D_

**Never Okay.**

He was almost there. He could see the front door, and the Vegas sky beyond it. He just had to walk a little further and he was free to act the way he felt.

His converse squeaked on the lab's floor as he quickened his pace, eager to get into his car and speed off to his bar of choice, and forget everything.

He took deep breath after deep breath, his eyes scanning faces, wondering if he needed to plaster a smile on his face. But as far as he could see, no other CSIs were flowing through the hallway.

A few more steps and he'd be free of his false charisma. He could feel the refreshing night air whooshing in the sliding door and it calmed him slightly.

Finally his feet found the metal floor of the doorway, and then the cold, hard pavement. Cool air washed over him and he sighed. He let his face drop, and his shoulders sag. He felt the pain in his stomach spread, until his whole body was stinging. With what exactly, he wasn't sure.

He felt like the gravity on earth had tripled, and the thickness of the air had done the same. Just walking and breathing were things he had to think about, and even thinking took substantial of effort.

He trudged towards his Denali, stray bits of gravel skittering on the dark ground. He glanced at them, but regretted it as his eyes began to water, and the familiar stinging of his nose began once again.

So like he had a million times these past few months, he sucked it all back, and looked upwards, trying to dry his now shining eyes. He could see a few stars in the sky, and wished he could see more.

His foot caught on a small pothole, and he stumbled a miniscule amount, but it was enough. His body reacted as he caught his balance, that stinging doubling, and more tears rushing up to his eyes.

He felt weak, and he hated it, so he found himself rushing faster towards the safety of his car. The Vegas sounds in the distance reached him; traffic, shouting drunken voices, club music and casino ads. Even though he felt numb, all his senses still worked.

The outside air was chilling him to the bone, and his ears burned red, his cheeks stung harshly. But none of that mattered to him, because all he wanted was to be alone, solitary, and safe. But his idea of safe wasn't the usual perception. No, he wanted to be safe to cry, and break down, the other CSIs none the wiser.

Finally he reached his car, and clicked the small plastic button on his keys. The beep echoed in the night, and he pulled the door handle, swinging it open widely.

He climbed into the slightly stuffy car, feeling the padded seat give under his weight. Then he slammed the door shut, and tilted his head back on the head-rest.

The pain rushed up from his chest as he let go of control, and he began to shake. Tears soaked his cheeks, obscuring his vision. Everything blurred and faded, as he shivered in the closed space of his car.

He sniffed in the thick air between the sobs that wracked his body, but he was still suffocating. His head felt like it was being compressed, and electrified. But inside was another story,

Yes, on the inside, he was collapsing and crumbling. His thoughts and flash-backs were jumbled, and his feelings...they were strings knotted to the point of hopelessness.

Everything he had held back during the double he had pulled was now pouring out, like he had turned on a faucet.

He gripped the steering wheel to the point where his knuckles were white as he finally calmed from his breakdown. The familiar cooled feeling filled his throat, and his head felt like he had a bad hangover.

The tears didn't stop though, they continued to stain his pink cheeks, the very ones that were always blotchy but nobody seemed to notice. His eyes were puffy, and he knew he needed to get out of the parking lot.

He reached for the ignition, keys still in hand, but jumped as someone knocked on the window. His heart raced with shock as he looked at the figure, who was still knocking on the glass.

"Greg? Greg, are you okay?" Sara's voice penetrated the thick glass, and he could see the look of concern on her face.

The shock was uncontrollable, and a small gasp escaped him. Nobody had seen him without the mask on. He kept it there for a reason, because everyone needed to think he was okay. But it was quite the opposite.

But his inner turmoil was too much, and the tears continued to slide down his face. So he turned the keys in the ignition, his Denali coming to a sudden life. The air conditioning blasted, and he stumbled to find the control, turning it down.

"Greg, come on, open the window!" Sara shouted from outside, and he turned his blotchy, pained face, his eyes meeting with hers fiercely. She looked like she had seen a ghost, and he knew why.

But he couldn't bring himself to follow her instructions, so choosing flight over fight, he shoved his foot on the gas. The car pushed forwards, Sara stepping back in shock. He drove through the empty spot in front of him, and rolled around the corner towards the exit.

So he drove out, looking back to see a hurt Sara Sidle, standing in the night air alone and looking more confused than he had ever seen her.

**So, this is set after 'Fannysmackin' Because it seems that Greg is just okay, but really- when are any of our CSIs just 'okay'? Look at how long it took Nick to be around bugs again? Season 10! Ugh, they make Greg look sooo happy, but I'm sure he has his issues too :) Next chapter will be here soon, if I get reviews that is :) I think he's always been too happy, I mean look at all the shit he's been through. So yeah, review!**


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: I own nothing but my imagination :D_

**Never Okay.**

She was confused. More than confused, actually. She was still standing in the middle of the parking lot, staring at the point where Greg's car had disappeared from sight.

The confusion and pain consumed her, rejection no doubt clear on her face. Greg had never acted that way before; it was like she was imagining it. After all, the man she had seen a few minutes ago, was _not _the man she saw every night.

She had never seen anything but a smile on the younger man's face, and nothing but light in his eyes. He always had a joke to tell, or a reason to tease you. He was funny, charismatic and...happy.

But the Greg she had just saw, was the opposite. He had puffy eyes, tear stained cheeks and sagging shoulders. He had a pain in his eyes she thought she would never see. Every aspect of his face was pained, tormented, and filled with anguish.

Previous to now, she never could have imagined such a thing. A _sad _Greg Sanders. Sure, she had seen the CSI when he was the most tired, worn out, and affected by a case, but never, ever had she seen him like that.

Even when she had been called out a month ago for Greg's beating, she had seen him at his worst. He had been weak, defenceless and hurt. But he had still managed to crack a joke, and think more about the case than himself.

She had cried harder than she had in years, as she traveled in the ambulance with Greg. He had passed out shortly after their short, emotional conversation in the alleyway, and even though he couldn't hear her, she had continued to speak to him. Not that she said much- her sobs had choked her within seconds.

And now here she stood, in the middle of the empty parking lot, chocking back new tears.

It hurt to see Greg that way. It was stirring up emotions she hadn't felt in months...maybe even years. Her stomach was tumbling, and her throat felt compressed. Her hands were sweating and shaking.

Her whole body was radiating something. It had taken her until now to figure out exactly what it was though. _Guilt. _

Guilt wasn't something she usually felt, but now it was swallowing her whole. Why hadn't she seen this earlier? Was she really that blind? She knew Greg better than anyone in the lab and yet she hadn't noticed anything peculiar? Yes, when he first returned to work he was out of it, but that didn't last long. Soon he was cracking jokes and teasing her again.

So why had he just broken down? Was he like that at work too, but she hadn't seen? Or was this something he was hiding? This frustrated her- she thought she made herself easy to talk to; trusting. But obviously that wasn't the case, and self hatred pumped through her veins.

Somehow that pushed her to step unevenly along the cold pavement, subconsciously trudging towards her vehicle, but her mind was still knotted and tangled.

The thoughts were rushing through her head like the wind that was blowing through her now chaotic brown hair. Her eyes stung against the suddenly frigid air, and her troubled steps increased in speed. Everything was blurred with tears, confusion and pain.

She didn't know what to think anymore. So when she got to her car she pulled the handle roughly, and slid into the warm cabin. The door swung shut behind her, sealing her off from the outside noises. She didn't bother putting the keys in the ignition, instead just tossing them to the passenger seat and leaning back with exhaustion.

She racked her brain with frustration, trying to come up with anything she could have seen that could explain the emotional wreck Greg had just been. There was nothing. He had been his usual self for the past three weeks, joking around, being incredibly smart, yet incredibly cheesy. He was Greg, and nobody had seen anything wrong.

Except her. Now she had information that nobody else did, and she wasn't sure what to do with it. Tell everyone and hurt him? Or keep it to herself and risk him hurting even more? But what did she really know? He was in pain and crying. Nothing else. She needed to know more.

Acting on impulse she pulled out her cell phone, and despite her worries of it turning out to be a bad idea, she dialled Greg's number. Her hands were strangely stable as she brought the phone to her ear and listened intently.

The dial tone seemed to come late, probably due to her anticipation. It echoed in her ears, each tone seemingly longer than the other. But he didn't pick up. The tones went on for what seemed like forever, before she heard a click and 'You've reached Greg Sanders, I'm either busy or ignoring you, so leave a message.'

She could just imagining him saying those words with a smirk. But instead of following his instructions she snapped her phone shut and sighed. She leant forwards and rested her forehead on the smooth leather steering wheel.

She sighed when she felt the rush of liquid to her eyes, the mascara un-sticking itself from her lashes. Her throat began to compress as she delayed her sobs, somehow embarrassed to cry over such a little thing.

But it wasn't a little thing. How much more did the team need to go through before they realized that they themselves were the ones who needed saving, not the victims? They were the ones who had to have the world's weight on their shoulders, the spotlight constantly fixed and the guilt eating away at their heart. Nobody else. Just them.

And with that thought she dialled Greg's number again, and sat up in the car to push her cell to her ear. The dial tones were just as slow as before, and even more agonizing. Once again it went to voicemail, but this time she didn't snap the phone shut.

Instead she waited to the tiny beep and took a shaky breath. She had a hard time finding it, but eventually her voice rang out, unsteady and worry-filled.

"Greg... It's Sara. Please tell me where you are. I need to talk to you..." Then she realised she would need to persuade him, and knowing Greg, all he would want is this to disappear. "I... I'm not going to tell anyone. I know it's not what you want. But please... call me back..." She said, and wished she could find something better to say. "I need to know your safe... I know what it's like to feel alone... but the whole team loves you. Don't forget that... so call me back... as soon as you can."

Then she flicked her cell shut and looked at the time. 4:30 AM. Where the hell could he be at this hour? His apartment probably, maybe a late bar...

And with that she stuck her keys in the ignition, the SUV roaring to life, and drove out of the lot straight towards Greg's home.

**You like? I hope so! Sorry it's so late, I was on vacation! :D REVIEWWW**


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